The Retribution Rationale
by RogueRedirection
Summary: When the ones he has hurt become the only ones who can help him, Loki is caught between his need for revenge and his need to be forgiven. Rated T for some violence and language.
1. Doing Time

"Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out."

- Marcus Zusack, _The Book Thief_

Loki retrieved another scroll from the sizable stack that occupied most of the space on the heavy mahogany desk. He had read them all before, of course, but even so he mildly appreciated the small escape that the familiar words offered him from his imprisonment. Muttering a quick spell under his breath, he passed his hand over the candelabra on the bedside table. The small flames stretched and reached up towards his fingers like hungry fish, filling a greater expanse of the room with their light. Dusk was falling on Asgard and the last few rays of the setting sun played through the colored tints of the bewitched stained-glass window on the western wall of the room. Though most of his powers had been taken from him by the grand meisters upon his return, Loki still retained enough of his magical ability to perform small spells. Enough to keep him from feeling completely useless. Though his collective crimes upon Midgard had been worthy of severe punishment, even the meisters of Odin's court had not decided to drain him of his magic completely. Loki shuddered at the thought. Only three beings to his knowledge had ever received such retribution in the written history of Asgard. The first, Loki once read, had been a well known sorcerer at the time, but had been driven to the more sinister side of the magical spectrum by his desire to bring back to life the mortal woman he had loved after she had died of fever. Unfortunately, the nature of the dark spells he forced upon her corrupted them both. She was only ever but a husk of the woman he had once loved and the sorcerer was driven mad by a combination of grief and the evil spells he had used to rip her soul from the underworld. In his misery and rage, he had wreaked havoc upon Asgard and Midgard until the grand meisters finally brought him down. After they stripped him completely of his magic, a terrible sickness fell upon him in prison. A sickness of the soul. As if he had lost the will to live, the sorcerer neither spoke, slept, ate nor drank until he shriveled up to mere skin and bones. Desolate and broken, he died in his cell before ever appearing for his trial. The second offender, a sorceress of considerable magical power, had also been undone by love. In her time, she had loved a Jotun. Blinded by the perceived affections of her lover, she could not see that his only goal was to learn her magical secrets which he then used to betray her and lay siege to Asgard. After a long and bloody war, she too had been hunted down and stripped of her magic. She hung herself in her cell naught two days after losing her powers. Of the third case little was known. The crimes of the offender were not explicitly listed, but they too had been enough to merit the forced loss of his magic. According to the historical records, he never even survived the experience and had died under the palms of the grand meisters. Since then, it had been agreed by the meisters and the lawkeepers that no sorcerer would ever again be completely robbed of their magic, regardless of their crimes. For evidence had shown that it was indeed a fate worse than death.

Even as Loki recalled the records, his skin prickled uncomfortably at the memory of his own magic being taken from him when he had returned home a fortnight ago. Still cuffed and gagged by the horrible contraption that the Stark human had forced upon him, he had been immediately lead before the four grand meisters. He could still feel their ancient hands upon his arms and chest as they chanted the spells that had sapped his magic from him and transfered it to a couple of silver gauntlets lying on a nearby pedestal. In olden days, his magic would have been directly absorbed by the meisters themselves, but now it was policy to store it in inanimate objects instead. This practice ensured that the magic would not corrupt the meisters. In turn, it would also make it easier for his magic to be returned to him one day if ever the higher powers so decided. Loki remembered feeling heavy at first, like a boulder was being laid to rest directly on his heart. Then he remembered the horrible feeling of emptiness, as if his very insides had been scooped out of his body. For the first time in a very long while, he had felt scared. Frightened of not being able to defend himself. Frightened of not being able to reach for something that he had thought would always be there. Frightened of losing part of who he was. Of course the meisters had safely halted the process before his powers were gone completely, Loki had fallen to his knees from the mental exhaustion and perturbation of the experience. Despite himself, he felt a pang of misplaced emotion in his heart as he remembered his adopted brother grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet, a look of genuine concern etched on his face. "Unbind him," he had demanded of the guards of the temple as soon as they had exited its doors, "he no longer needs to be restrained. Unbind him!" Once the confounded chains and gag had been removed, Thor had accompanied him to his current lodgings in the roomier cells of the palace prison, never once leaving his side even as the guards closed in formation around them. Though Loki had yet to speak a single word to his brother since their return, the corner of Loki's mouth twitched in a half smile at how predictably righteous Thor was. Still willing to care about his evil adopted sibling. Still unabashedly compassionate for someone who had betrayed him, attacked him, and threatened the lives and realms of those he cared about. Loki's smile disappeared as quickly as it had formed and he sniffed in distain. Thor's disgustingly unbridled concern for everyone and everything dear to him was definitely his weakness, not his strength. His bleeding heart coupled with his witless tendency to rush into situations while considering only his emotions and never any kind of logic would surely be his undoing.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Loki had just begun to unroll the scroll in his hands when he heard a knock at the door. It was probably dinner, he supposed, given the time of day. However, the person who entered the cell was not at all whom he had expected. Although Loki had been home for over a month, he had seen no one but the palace guards since his imprisonment. Loki knew that Thor had probably tried to visit him, but visitors were not allowed by prison rules, even despite his princely title. Loki was in part glad of this fact. His current feelings towards his brother were mixed at best. He now turned his attention to the newcomer in the doorway; his adopted mother, Queen Frigga. Her golden robes and diamond crown shimmered in the dying light as she stepped forward, her hands crossed calmly over the front of her dress. "Hello, Loki." she said simply. For once in his life, Loki found he could not say anything. His silver tongue had melted to his teeth. "I know my visit is- belated," she started shakily, "but believe me this, my son" she strode forward to where he stood rooted to his spot by the bed. She reached out towards him with her right hand, hesitantly. Then, something in her face changed, softened, and all at once she wrapped her arms around his thin frame. "I have missed you." she said quietly. As if they had a mind of their own, Loki's arms seemed to rise up and rest themselves on her back, returning her embrace in spite of himself. Of all the Aesir in Asgard that he had disappointed, Frigga was the only one for whom Loki could ever admit to himself that he truly felt remorse. In all of his living memory, Loki could never recall a time when his adopted mother had not shown anything but sincere concern for his well being. Like most mothers, Loki knew she had only ever wanted the best for him, wanted him to be happy. When Odin had showered Thor with praise for his feats on the training grounds, Frigga (although she too had praised his brother often) had always commended Loki on his magic and encouraged him to pursue the ancient art with all his passion. With her nearby, Loki had always felt a little less overshadowed by his taller, stronger, handsomer adopted brother. Although she shared equal blame for concealing his true heritage from him, Loki conceded that he could almost forgive her. Unlike her husband, Loki had never doubted that Frigga had always seen him as everything he could be and not simply who he was. He slowly pulled her hands away from his shoulders and turned back towards the window. "Why?" he asked softly. "Why would you miss me? Why would anyone miss me? I am nothing. I have no one." he said acidly. He heard Frigga take a tentative step forward and reach up to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Loki," she said softly, grasping his shoulder and turning his body back toward herself. "You have never been alone. You have always had us. We are your family. We always have been." Loki tried to meet her eyes, to find the sincerity in her words, but his eyes inevitably fell to the floor. Though he knew she meant well, her words stung him more than she realized. What kind of monster had he become to hurt the only people who had ever cared about him? "How can you expect me to believe that you still feel any kind of compassion for me after all I have done?" he asked, still not able to meet her gaze. Frigga cupped her hand under his chin and drew his face upward towards her own. "We all want to be forgiven, Loki. The fault for your actions also rests on your father and myself, for it was we who failed you. In our effort to protect you from the truth, we doomed you to undeserved anguish. We did not want you to feel different because we did not know how to make you realize that our feelings for you have always been the same."

"I do not understand you, mother. Why, even though I have done you so much wrong? Even though I have caused so much hurt and death? How can you stand before me and speak as if I am deserving of forgiveness?" he begged, searching her face for answers. "You should hate me."

"Oh, my son," Frigga said calmly, her hand still upon his face "that was exactly my point." Suddenly, Loki felt something in his chest, a warm pressure. He looked down, confusion flooding his eyes while his mind processed the dark growing splotch of blood around the blade of the dagger that his adopted mother had just driven straight through his black silk tunic and into his heart. The first wave of pain hit him and he gasped for air, falling to his knees. Frigga's eyes turned to ice as she tugged the dagger from his chest. "We've always hated you." she said, sheathing the dagger and vanishing as quickly as she had come, leaving him to bleed.

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**Thank you so much for all the reviews so far! I really appreciate it. Yes, I plan to continue this story and update as soon as I can!**


	2. Bad Dreams

Loki awoke with a start. His body was covered in sweat and his chest heaved from the shock of the nightmare. There was no knife-wound in his stomache, but the hurt was still there. "How painful does it feel to know what your 'family' truly thinks of you?" hissed a voice from behind him. Loki blinked away the last of the dream from his eyes and said nothing. He did not even turn his head to acknowledge the speaker at his back. He knew who it was. In the gloom of the dimly lit cell, he shifted slightly and pulled in vain at the chains binding his hands above his head. "The only thing that pains me is how inaccurately you have constructed these 'truths' with which to torment me. Prisoners are never supplied with reading materials in Asgard, especially not a sorcerer of my stature. Why trouble yourself by creating such an elaborate dream if you cannot convince me of its actuality? I'm disappointed in you, Engr." he rasped, licking his chapped and bloody lips. Engr laughed a low, croaking laugh like the thick gurgling of dirty water being swept down a drain.

"Then tell me, Laufeyson" he said, prowling from the shadows of Loki's pereferal vision to face him, "What is 'actuality' to you? Is it the knowledge that you lived the majority of your life as Odin's private joke? Or is it the fact that you wasted so much time trying to please him only to find that you could never have been king anyway? Even a fool such as Odin would never choose a bastard frost giant over his own flesh and blood. You were doomed to fail from the very start." he sneered. The Chitauri prison guard shifted his shape from its regular form to that of an exact replica of Thor. "And now the throne shall pass to Odin's perfect son." Loki glared at the snickering impersonation of his adopted brother.

"Who occupies the throne of Asgard matters not to me. It is a petty game that I used to play. I have moved on."

"Oh, yes. Indeed you have. Now you seek to conquer Midgard. Surely the pathetic realm of the humans is more of a fitting prize for you." Loki chuckled lightly at this. "Correct me if I am wrong, Engr, but last I recall, one single pathetic human nearly annihilated your entire armada." As he spoke, Engr's form wavered angrily like a candle flame.

"Do not mock the power of the Chitauri empire, lie-smith! Rest assured, all of Midgard and it's lowly life-forms will pay for their offenses. Either way, the defeat is one we share, or else neither of us would be here right now." Engr flickered and assumed the form of the bigger, angrier, and greener version of Bruce Banner. "Do not use the failures of others to mask your own." he growled, grabbing Loki's shoulders and neck in one giant hand. "You are nothing but a soft, spoiled, would-be princeling with nothing to claim." he slowly squeezed Loki in his fist, crushing the breath out of his lungs. "And you will die here, slowly-" Loki felt one of his already-bruised ribs begin to crack under the pressure "painfully-" Engr continued, bending downwards until he was face to face with his prisoner, "and alone." he finished, slamming Loki backwards into the mold-stained wall behind him. Loki lurched forward, gasping for air and retching from the impact at the same time. He would have fallen to his knees, but the chains around his wrists kept him on his feet, although he sagged forward towards the dirt floor. He coughed and turned his head to the side and spat out a small conglomeration of bile and blood. "Well, Engr," he wheezed finally, looking back up to meet his captor's eyes "at least I'll have you." he sniggered, receiving a hard punch to the face that would have snapped the neck of any mortal man. "Laugh all you like, Loki Laufeyson," Engr said, shifting back to his normal form and turning to exit the cell. A green light sparked to life and seethed up the wall from the ground, forming a door-frame in the very stone itself. The stone slid aside for the Chitauri guard as he stepped through the threshold. "But once we secure the Tesseract, you will have nothing to laugh about." he finished, the stones sliding seamlessly back into place and leaving Loki in darkness. Loki breathed a sigh of relief and let himself rest back against the wall. Though he could not see, he knew that his cheek was bleeding and his ribs were possibly fractured. He stretched his neck up towards his chained hands and tenderly pressed his fingers to the wound. He hissed in pain as he felt the bone squish beneath his touch like a rotten piece of fruit. Taking sharp, quick breaths so as not to irritate his aching ribs further, he furrowed his brow in concentration and began a small healing spell. What had happened in the nightmare was true, at least to some extent. Upon his return to Asgard, Loki had actually been stripped of his magic but for the barest minimum. Even as he reached into his mind for the source of his magic, it seemed farther away than usual and flowed sluggishly along the paths where he directed it, first from his core to his sides. Had he been able to perform a healing spell at his full strength, the wound would have sewed itself together instantly. As it was, he had to go painstakingly slow, layer by layer, starting with the bone. It was like trying to fill an empty hole with sand when he could only transfer the sand a single grain at a time. Nevertheless, he persisted with his task. Even practicing this low level of magic felt good to him. Just because he was not running on full power was no excuse to let his skills grow dull. His mind wandered as he performed the task, back to Asgard and the events that had transpired there a fortnight ago.

It was the day of his trial. Odin had called him before the court after nearly half a month's debate over what his sentence should be. Several of the powerful families of Asgard had suggested banishment to Jotunheim, but Thor had spoken strongly against this. "Without his powers he will not stand a chance. He will be hunted down and killed like an animal. I would not his sentence be one so cruel, father." Thor said, standing a little off to his brother's right, facing Odin and the court. Odin looked down at his sons and folded his hands on the golden podium before him. Frigga sat behind him on his right, her form stiff and rigid, but her blue eyes betrayed the swirls of sentiment inside of her, fixing on Thor as he voiced his objection, then shifting back to her husband. "Loki," Odin began, rising from his seat to approach his sons and address the court "Your crimes against both Asgard and Midgard are worthy of death. You have betrayed the trust of those who raised you and abused your powers for your own gain. The blood of countless innocents is on your hands." he paced in measured steps across the marble floor, the soft tap of his boots the only other noise occupying the hall other than his stern, but world-weary voice. "But it is also on mine." he turned, facing the court. "I, too, carry the burden of your sins, Loki. I foolishly tried to hide the truth from you; a truth that was always rightfully yours to know. Now, the unfortunate pain it has caused you has spread to hurt more souls than I should like to know." Odin spoke quietly as he stepped towards Loki, laying a hand on his shoulder. "For this, my son, I am sorry." Loki was frozen to his place, his heart sick with emotions that he doubted he could name. He could not speak or move. He just watched Odin as he dropped his hand from his shoulder and returned to the center of the court. "And it is for this, Asgard, that I am now prepared to step down as your king."

Though no noise was heard throughout the entire court, a sudden ambient hush swept across the great hall, like the quiet gasp of air that escapes the shore the moment before a wave crashes against the sand. "Father-" Thor began, stepping towards him. Odin silenced him with a hand and turned back to his subjects. "I have reflected profoundly upon this matter, and I believe that it is now time for the throne to pass to a new king. A wise king. A just king. A king who draws his strength from his people and whose decisions will not be clouded by fear or guilt. A king whom can be trusted to put the needs of many before his own. A king who rules not solely from the mind, but from the heart as well. And so it is with great conviction that I proclaim as the new King of Asgard, your prince, Thor, who has proven that his past experiences have made him strong and his ability to exercise more than any king could hope to effectuate, the qualities of responsibility, courage, and most importantly; compassion." With an expression of more severity than Loki had ever seen him, Odin turned to address him once again. "It was I who failed to do this for you, Loki. Now it is my hope that your brother can do for you what I could not." Striding back past his sons to the front of the golden dias, Odin retrieved Gungnir from its ceremonial stand and raised it outward. "Finally, Asgard, it is my last decree that my son, Loki, will remain here in Asgard, so that his mind may learn and his heart may heal. He will remain stripped of his magic and humbled by the nine realms until such a time as when the king deems he is once again deserving of such power." Odin strode forward to where Thor stood, like Loki, hopelessly rooted to the spot. "This belongs to you now, my son." said Odin, holding the shining, golden spear out to Thor, who took it with stiff, shock-riddled hands. Thor swallowed and looked wordlessly up at his father, then to Loki beside him, then finally to the court surrounding him. Applause rumbled from the back of the room and thundered forward until the great hall rang with the deafening sound of the court's approval of their new king. Loki did not seem to notice it. He seemed only able to watch in continued silence as Thor turned back to Odin. "Father, I -" he began, but what he said Loki did not ever hear because in that moment the hall exploded. Acting upon pure reflex, the last thing he remembered was pushing his brother out of the way of the debris falling from the shattered ceiling as a well-aimed, barbed club connected with his temple and sent him reeling into the realm of unconsciousness.


End file.
